


Apartment 1509

by thedailygrind



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18179117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedailygrind/pseuds/thedailygrind
Summary: love is love is love.





	Apartment 1509

you aren't quite sure who lives next door, but sometimes you see them, in a flurry of sequined clothing, all five blurry figures trooping off into the elevator, laughing and talking too quickly in accented korean.  
  
you've seen them many times, watched them out of your apartment window. like clockwork, they leave their house at eight every morning. you know becuase of the roaring commotion that seems to accompany their every movement in and out of the block.  
  
you don't pretend to understand the culture of the young with their new values that contradict the old, their decadent lifestyles which allow children before marriage and even moreso, abnormal  _homosexual_  relationships which you shudder to think about. so you do your best, and ignore it.  
  
  
  
  
  
a few days later, you've spoken to one of them, once, a pale girl who helped you with your groceries the last time, and sweetly called you "ajumma".  
  
"you're such a pretty girl," you say, although her face is mostly a beige blur, but she has such a beautiful voice -- soothing and melodious -- and a gorgeous silhouette, as far as you can tell, that she must be.  
  
she laughs softly, a flurry of movement as she brings her hand up to her mouth. like a proper korean girl. "thank you."  
  
  
  
  
  
the next time is a couple of days later, and two of them come this time, the other silhouette has his hair streaked brown -- youngsters, nowadays, you lament, and an arm slung low on the girl's waist.  
  
"hello, ajumma," she says and wraps your shawl around you, in a way you soon become familiar with. "this is yunho."  
  
you nod, blindly reaching to touch his cheek. "ah, this one's a keeper." you say, and they both laugh, exchanging secret smiles and glances.  
  
  
  
  
  
they come, on and off, mostly the girl by herself, and other times with yunho in tow. she keeps apologising for not coming more often, to which you always reply, "it's all right, dear", patting her hand as she sets a familiar cup of tea down in your lap. what you won't tell her is that she visits more than your own daughter-in-law does.  
  
she asks you to call her 'boo', which you realise is also what yunho has taken to calling her. when you ask what it means, she says simply 'absence' and smiles, a soft, sad smile, and glances out of your window like she sees something out there beyond her reach --  
  
like she sees freedom.  
  
  
  
  
  
there is a cool touch of metal on her hands, the next time you grasp them, as she passes you a plate of homemade kimchi. she's a wonderful cook, and you secretly mourn the fact that your son is happily married. it's then you realise that there's something new about those gentle hands, a simple platinum band rests on one of her fingers. you don't mention it, but you remember this incident, for next time.  
  
yunho drops later in the day to visit, practically glowing even as he apologises for not being there often enough. as he reaches to squeeze your hand, you feel a matching touch of coldness.  
  
and as you suspect, a matching platinum band.  
  
  
  
  
  
they speak in murmured voices, words only meant for each other, so you try not to catch the words, but you hear the occasional endearment when yunho reaches to help her with the plates, when they're laughing quietly in your kitchen as yunho tries to distract her from making dinner.  
  
they make you smile in their simplicity, the love that they try to hide from your eyes, a love that they want to keep private but can't help radiating like sunlight.  
  
you remember a particular day she came in looking distracted and upset and yunho had followed her, and cornered her in the kitchen. you'd been lurking by the kitchen, fussing over the new package that had arrived when you'd heard them,  
  
"no matter where you were i'd find you. even if we hadn't met here. i'd have found you somewhere else. we're  _right_ , we fit together."  
  
those words, spoken in yunho's soft baritone, and she had laughed softly in his arms, relieved with a hint of something else.  
  
they're beautiful, you think, beautifully in love. you don't think you've ever seen two people  _look_  at each other like that before. like they couldn't be any other way.  
  
  
  
  
  
two weeks later they stop coming altogether. and you hear from the whispers of the neighbours that they've moved out. that one of the boys in apartment 1509 had died in a car accident, and that the others, in grief had left the apartment, unwilling to live among the painful memories.  
  
  
  
  
  
jaejoong's death notice comes three days later in the newspaper. your new spectacles came ages ago, but with jaejoong around you never needed the extra weight on the bridge of your nose, or the contraption that made the room spin after too long.  
  
yunho greets you with swollen, puffy eyes, nervously playing with the band on his finger.  
  
"thank you for coming," he says, his voice cracking, "jaejoong will be so glad."  
  
he looks exhausted, and underfed, you berate him quietly for not taking care of himself, and he looks as if he is about to start crying again. then you realise, he's never had to -- not when jaejoong would. another boy ushers him away, gently tugging on his arm, giving you an apologetic nod.  
  
  
  
  
  
he is even more beautiful than you pictured him to be, pale and still with death. but even more so, its only on his death bed that you realise he really was a boy.


End file.
